


Reunion

by relmer



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, M/M, Protective Spot, and then a playground, anthony zas is spot!!, bc he’s race, bc honestly who wouldn’t be, besides race ofc, jack is cheeky, just a few scrapes, mild injury!!, morris delancey is scared of spot, race still likes betting, smalls is nonbinary!!, spot is the new kid nice, they go to arby’s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 07:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13336758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relmer/pseuds/relmer
Summary: There’s a new kid at school, one that only seems to take a liking to Race. One day of adventure leads to a small secret being finally, after five years, let out.





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> modern au, newsies live cast (except for spot, who’s anthony zas in this)
> 
> this is so rushed ew.... but it’s good. enjoy !

Racetrack Higgins was so close to smacking his friend, Jack Kelly, directly in the face. The brunet had made yet another comment about something Race had mistakenly said. Jack always did that, so it wasn’t that big of a deal, but Race was known to make things a big deal.

“Damn you, Kelly.”

He only received a grin, which made him raise his hand as if he was about to smack Jack.

“Race!” Davey said. “The principal’s looking over here.”

Davey was new to the school and still hadn’t gotten used to the little things. (Like how everyone called the principal by his last name. Davey claimed it was “disrespectful,” though even the staff called him Pulitzer.)

“What’ll he do? Oh wait, nothing,” Race scoffed.

“Snyder might,” Albert said, referring to the dean.

“Guys, look!” Smalls said. “It’s a new kid!” The pointed to where a boy sat alone, head ducked so no one could see his face.

“Five to one Jack gets ignored by him,” Race bet with a grin.

Jack hit his head with the palm of his hand. “Shut it, Racer. How about _you_ go?”

“Yeah, Race!” Romeo said. “I quadruple dog dare you.”

A few of them let out an “ooh.” Albert shoved Race’s shoulder to get him up. No one’s ever allowed to say no to a quadruple dog dare (within reason, of course).

Race sighed and got up, flipping off his friends as he made his way to the lunch table where the new kid sat alone. Race noticed he was reading a book, which he looked up from as the blind sat down across from him.

He raised an eyebrow, not closing his book. “Can I help you, pretty boy?”

Race felt his cheeks heat up, making the boy in front of him smirk.

“I, uh...I’m Race.”

“Spot.”

“That’s not your real name, is it?”

Spot’s smirk widened. “Neither is yours, I’m assuming. But sorry, I only tell my friends my real name.”

“Aren’t we friends, though?”

“We’ve been talking for two minutes.” He paused, eyes darting to a place behind Race. “Let me guess, those are your friends staring at us?”

“Probably,” Race sheepishly admitted.

Spot tilted his head, waiting for him to continue.

“They quadruple dog dared me to talk to you. I was going to, anyways-“

“Yeah, sure,” Spot interrupted. “Go back to then and leave me alone.”

Race was about to argue, but the look on Spot’s face made him decide otherwise. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, getting up and going back to his table.

“How was it?” Smalls asked when the blond sat back down. “You guys talked for a while, but he glared at you as you walked back.”

“He’s not happy with me, to say the least.”

“But...you’re still going to try to become friends with him,” Jack knowingly said.

Race nodded, glancing over his shoulder where the brunet was still looking at him. Their eyes met as the bell rang. Spot got up, walked to their table, and dropped a folded up piece of paper in front of Race. As he left, Race’s friends stared in astonishment. He opened the note.

**meet me on the baseball field right after school** **-spot**

“Holy _shit,”_ Albert said.

– – –

Race couldn’t sit still for the rest of the school day, trying to focus on his work so time would seem to pass faster. (Spoiler alert: it didn’t.)

As soon as the last bell rang, he was gathering his things and making his way to the baseball field. Spot was already sitting on the bleachers. Race climbed them to meet him.

“You’re continuously surprising me, pretty boy.”

Race stuttered out incoherent words, his cheeks starting to turn red again.

“Calm down,” Spot said with a grin. “You’re getting flustered.”

The blond shut his mouth, choosing to instead sit a few feet away from Spot. He didn’t meet the latter’s eyes, but could feel Spot looking at him.

“Are you going to talk, or just continue staring at me like earlier?”

Spot let out a laugh. “You’re not as dumb as you seemed at first. You’re also quite strange.”

“Tell me about yourself, Spot,” Race said to change the subject. “Where are you from? Why did you move here? What’s your favorite color? Do you like cats or dogs?”

“Why are you so interested in me, Race?” Spot caught his eye, tilting his head. “There’s so many other people out there, and I’m definitely not the first new kid out there. And yet, you chose me to attempt to become friends with. Why?”

Race picked his next words carefully, but sincerely. “Most new kids here are immediately dragged into the popular crowd before lunch on their first day, but not you. I overheard one of them talking about you, and they said you scare them. They aren’t easily scared, especially not Morris Delancey.”

“Oh, him? I threatened to soak him if he didn’t leave me alone.”

“You’d soak him, but not me?” Race asked, a hint of a grin on his face.

“You’re nicer than him, and I don’t soak pretty boys.”

Race snorted. “What is it with you and that nickname?”

“It suits you.” Spot was trying to not smile. “You _are_ really pretty. Do you not want me to call you it, or...”

“No! I like it.”

“Good. Because I like seeing you blush.” He winked, standing up and stretching. “Are you doing anything today?”

Race shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

“Do you have a ride home?”

“He most likely already left.”

“Then let’s go. What’s your favorite fast food place?”

– – –

Spot took them to Arby’s, not letting Race pay. (“I’m the one who dragged you here.”) They sat in a booth in the back, taking their time as they ate. Race had already texted his mom that he’d be home late, and to not make a plate for him.

“You never answered my questions from before,” Race said, putting a curly fry in his mouth.

“Well,” Spot began, “I’m originally from Brooklyn, but we moved here because of my mother’s job. My favorite color is red and I love dogs.”

“This friendship isn’t going to work out, sorry. I’m a hardcore cat person.”

Spot grinned, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Really, now?”

“I can’t stand dogs; they’re too energetic. Cats are lazy and you don’t have to give them attention every single second of the day,” Race said.

“Cats don’t like to cuddle, though.”

“That’s true.”

“And they-“

“I get it,” Race interrupted with a grin, “you don’t like cats.”

Spot shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “I do, dogs are just better. Are you done?” he asked before Race could argue with him.

Race huffed as Spot slid out of the bench with his tray. He copied him after a second, both refilling their drinks. As they left, Race rung the bell with a grin.

“So, where next, Mr. New Kid?”

“First of all,” Spot said, “never call me that again. Second, I heard there’s a park close by?”

“It’s a damn nice park. I met some of my friends there,” Race said.”

Spot raised an eyebrow as they got into his car. “Let me guess, at the playground?”

“Nah. I scared the shit out of them when I accidentally fell out of a tree trying to scare them.”

The brunet snickered, shaking his head. “That sounds just like you.”

Race pouted, crossing his arms.

They were silent as Spot drove to the park. Race had to direct them a bit, since Spot was new to Manhattan. When they got there, they quickly climbed out.

“Want to go to the playground?” Race asked.

Spot shrugged in response, Race grabbing his arm and dragging him in the direction of the playground. Their slight jog broke into a run, the blond letting go. He was a lot faster than Spot, who never really ran.

“Wait!” he called, slowing to a stop.

Race heard him and stopped, then went back to where Spot was. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t run.”

Race grinned, trying to hold back a laugh. Spot noticed and punched his shoulder hard.

 _”Ow!”_ Race yelped, his hand shooting to his arm. “That hurt!”

It was Spot’s turn to grin. “Sucks to be you, then. Let’s go.”

Race led him to the playground, still holding his arm. When they got close, he dropped his hand and rushed over to the swings.

“Are you serious.”

“C’mon, Spot!” Race patted the swing next to him before starting to swing.

Spot rolled his eyes, reluctantly doing what the other boy said. He just sat there, not wanting to swing, but he couldn't hold back the smile forming at Race’s grin.

“Spot, look!”

Race was up high, and at the peak of the swing’s arch he slid out of the swing. He flew for a few second, landing on his hands and knees and rolling to the side as he laughed.

“What the _fuck,_ Race?” Spot shouted as he got out of his swing and went over to the blond.

“It’s fun!”

“You’re bleeding,” Spot said as he inspected Race’s hands. “Get up.“

“Spot, I’m okay!” Race said, about to continue, but Spot’s expression made him stop. “...Fine.”

Spot tugged him up, and that’s when Race pitched forward.

_“Shit.”_

Both pairs of eyes shot to Race’s knees, which they could see, due to his shorts, were also scraped up. They stood there, trying to figure out what to do. Spot thought of an idea first.

“Tell me if this hurts,” he said. Before Race could question him, he was swept up into Spot’s arms bridal style.

“Spot, what the hell!” Race yelled, his arms going around Spot’s neck so he wouldn’t fall.

“It’s the easiest way.”

Spot carried Race, with a lot of complaining from the blond, to his car. They somehow managed to put Race inside, then Spot got in the driver's side.

“So...should I take you to my house or yours to clean you up?”

“Wow,” Race joked, “at least take me out for dinner first.”

Spot hit his chest with the back of his hand, not hard this time, while rolling his eyes. “I already took you out for a lunch type thing.”

“Oh...right. Your house. I already told my mom I’d be out late.”

“My mom doesn’t get home until eleven, and it’s five now. We’ll be all good.”

With that, Spot drove to his house. He noted how Race kept gazing at the other houses passing them, curious.

“I’ve only been on this side of town a few times,” Race said, “because my friend’s father lives a few streets away. This is the richer part, right?”

“Yeah, I guess. My mom’s an interior designer,” Spot explained.

“That makes sense then.”

They arrived a minute or two later, pulling into the driveway of a smaller house. It was a soft yellow, the door dark blue and flowers all around it.

“It’s very homey,” Race noticed.

Spot only nodded, getting out and helping Race out of his side. They slowly made their way up to the front porch and, after Spot unlocked the door, inside. Race didn’t get a chance to really see the house, as Spot pushed him directly into a bathroom.

“Sit,” he said, looking through the cabinet under the sink for the first aid kid.

Race did, hopping up on the counter. He kicked his legs, making sure they didn’t go through the open cabinet, until Spot put a hand right under his knee.

“Don’t do that.” He kept his hand there, even as he found the box, to stop Race from kicking his legs more.

“You’re boring,” Race complained.

Spot hummed, not paying attention as he pulled out the things he needed. “Hands first.”

Race held out his hands, wincing as Spot cleaned then wrapped them. Not once did he complain, which made Spot suspicious. He didn’t question it until after he cleaned Race’s hands.

Race hesitated. “I used to get into fights a lot, and I’d usually have to clean myself up. Makeup came in handy for bruises and stuff on my face.” He let out a soft laugh, but it was an uncomfortable one. “My friends only knew about a few of them.”

“Shit, Race,” Spot mumbled. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He then did a thing that surprised both of them; he hugged Race.

Race’s eyes widened at the sudden hug, scooting forward so he could return it. Spot’s face was buried in Race’s shoulder, making the latter’s face heat up just the smallest amount.

“You know why I didn’t turn you away?” Spot asked softly after a moment, pulling away a little bit.

“Why?”

“My last name’s Conlon.”

Race froze, pushing Spot back by his shoulders so he could see his face. He ignored the small stinging in his hands as he spoke.

“Are you fucking with me?”

“Not at all, Tony.”

The blond glared at him for a few more seconds before pulling him into an even tighter hug.

“You little _shit!”_ Race said. “You knew all day, and only just now bothered telling me!”

“I mean, I disappeared for like, five years. I wanted time to catch up without actually...catching up.”

“I hate you.”

“Nah.” Spot pulled away this time, bringing one hand up to the back of Race’s neck and the other to his hip. “I missed you, Tony.”

“Just kiss me already, dumbass.”

Spot grinned, both leaning in and closing their eyes. Race left his arms where they were around Spot’s neck, and Spot stepped fully in between Race’s legs. They continued to kiss, pouring their emotions from the past few years into it.

When Spot had left, they were in eighth grade. Race had come out to him as bisexual then, and Spot came out a few days later as gay. Then he’d disappeared, along with his mom, without a trace. Until now, where he moved back and was _finally_ able to talk to Race again, to hug him, to kiss him, et cetera. And this time it wasn’t weird.

And this time Race was kissing back.


End file.
